Chapter 22
Emily
“Ishould fucking kill both of you!”
Clara’s voice is muffled by the closed door at the end of the hallway, but she’s screaming loud enough for me to hear pretty clearly. I drag my hands down my face and lean back against Bea’s couch, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms.
“Could be worse. We could both be dead already.”
Alice’s voice next to me is the only thing bringing me comfort. The feeling of her thigh inches from mine. And her smell—sea salt and blackberries, like I knew it would be, even far from that boat.
The whispers of my family hiding in Bea’s dining area are certainly not calming me. Charlie, Gwen, and Deniz sit very far away, glancing over at Alisa and I surreptitiously. Well, it would be surreptitiously, if they weren’t less than fifty fucking feet from us.
“Death might be preferable."
My statement is validated by the shattering of glass behind the closed door at the end of the hall.
It’s only been four days since Ilya took us from that boat, but it feels like a lifetime.
Bea and I got as much out of Ilya as we could, considering his organs were deteriorating rapidly.
But even in that state, he had quite a bit more fortitude than his younger brother did.
Whether because the poison addled his mind, or because he was unwilling to be a traitor to Konstantin, even in death, he gave us very little.
Which, of course, was not going to make things any better with Clara.
Bea had insisted that we proceed as directed—bring Alice to her townhouse in Tokyo, explain what happened, try to convince her not to excommunicate us and throw us to literal wolves.
It seems like Bea is on my side, but that may be more Alice’s doing than mine.
Of all my cousins, Bea and I have always been the most distant.
She’s so much more serious than I ever was, calm in the face of everything that startled me, emotionally detached when I was shaken.
I resented her for how easily she seemed to fit into this life.
I think she resented me for how gentle my parents were with me.
But I think Bea sees a bit of herself in Alice. Someone who lost one parent that was supposed to coddle and care for them, and was left to endure the pain of the other who prioritized work over anything else.
All that to say, she could be throwing me under the bus right now, locked in that office with Clara.
It was quite the scene when the rest of our family arrived at the townhouse I’d never set foot in.
Alice and I stood in the corner, my body instinctively covering hers as Charlie, Gwen, Deniz, and Clara were led in by Bea.
I swear I saw Clara’s hand twitch for her waistband, but she was blessedly unarmed.
She might have lunged at me, tried to kill me with her bare hands, if it wasn’t for Deniz’s arm around her shoulder and Bea tugging on her elbow toward the office.
There’s been quite a lot of yelling over the past two hours.
Currently, there’s some particularly loud murmuring from the dining table. I don’t remove my palms from my eyes until I hear footsteps headed our way.
Deniz stands in front of us, staring down at Alice. His eyes are narrowed, but more from curiosity than suspicion, if I could guess. He doesn’t give me a second glance, and neither does Alice. Deniz can be an intimidating guy, but my brave girl doesn’t cower, as per the usual.
“Your fiancé killed my brother,” Deniz says bluntly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he takes a deep breath. “Your father ordered the assassination that ended his life.”
I watch Alice carefully, but she doesn’t flinch. It’s not the unaffected, glazed facade she dons to hide herself. It's an honest, raw understanding of the man who raised her, and the one she was promised to.
“My father has enough blood on his hands to color the ocean red,” she says. Her fingers twitch on the couch beside me, but she doesn’t reach for my hand. “I’m sorry he took your brother from you. He took my mother from me, too. I hope we both get to avenge them one day.”
Deniz’s expression doesn’t change. He simply watches Alice for a few moments more. They have some silent conversation, battle of wills or test of character. After a few tense beats, Deniz nods and turns back to the table with Charlie and Gwen.
Charlie looks at me like he has no fucking clue what’s going on, his eyebrows permanently furrowed and raised toward his hairline. Gwen is looking at me like I’m an idiot.
I think we should stop having family reunions. They’re never much fun.
Suddenly, the door at the end of the hall slides open.
Clara steps out first, steam almost visibly rising from her ears as she stalks into the living room.
The only one brave enough to get close to her is Deniz, drawn like an object in her gravitational pull.
He floats to her side as she finds her place in the center of the room, even as the rest of my family slinks further against the wall.
I don’t blame them. I’d like to be out of her trajectory right now, too.
“You two are going to answer my questions with a simple yes or no,” she demands, brokering no room for argument.
Alice is immediately on edge, maybe even a little frightened.
She shifts toward me, keeping her wary eyes on Clara’s hands.
Good to know my cousin is objectively more terrifying than both an international arms dealer and human trafficker.
“What if—”
“I swear on Nonno’s grave, Emily, if you say another word other than yes or no I will put a bullet between your eyes.”
I want to say that I wasn’t trying to be difficult, that I was only going to explain what happened in my own words, but I’m smart enough to seal my lips.
“Finally putting all those fucking degrees to work,” she mutters, rollling her neck. Deniz is standing precariously close to her, like he anticipates having to hold her back. Fantastic.
“Before you were kidnapped by Andreeva—which is pathetic, by the way. You let him catch you unaware? Your mother would kill you,” she reproves, frustration evident in every syllable.
“Did you intend to tell Alisa Zakharov about The Syndicate of Fate and your mission, and in doing so, jeopardize our operation?”
I don’t look at Bea. She may understand why I did what I did, but she wouldn’t lie to her Matriarch. She’s second only to Clara in her steadfast and undying dedication to The Syndicate.
Instead, I look directly in her eyes. I don’t show fear, because I don’t feel it. If I have to die for the truth, so be it.
“Yes.”
Clara’s nostrils flare, and I can hear the breath hiss out of her in the silence of the room. She takes a few beats and turns to Alice.
“And did you intentionally lure Ilya Andreeva out of Russia in order to poison and kill him?”
“Yes,” Alice replies quickly, not a single drop of hesitation or guilt in her voice.
“Did you realize how ill-formed and ill-fated your plan was?”
Alice bites the inside of her cheek, probably reminding herself that she didn’t survive murdering her ex only to die because she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.
“Yes,” she admits rather ruefully, an annoyed lilt to the words.
Clara takes a few more deep breaths, controlled and careful, like she’s diffusing a bomb. Her own temper, I suppose.
“I would like to make it clear that you are both currently breathing because Bea has convinced me of your utility to our plan, and for no other reason. After Konstantin is dead, you will face the council’s judgement, as our edicts require, Emily.
You could still lose your position in The Syndicate. Or worse.”
I nod my head slowly, a little afraid to say I understand out loud. Clara’s eyes flash, but she turns back to Alice.
“You have proven, at least to Beatrice, that you harbor no loyalty to your father or his people. I hope you know that we trust no one but each other, and that includes you. Everyone in this room will be watching your every move, and if you give the slightest inkling that you are an enemy, you will be killed without question. Do you understand?”
Alice has lived this life before—constantly being watched, needing to prove her loyalty to those who are supposed to protect her. A little flicker of disappointment flashes in her eyes, but she nods all the same.
“Yes.”
The tension in Clara’s shoulders loosens, and the room releases a collective sigh of relief when we realize she’s not about to kill me or Alice.
Deniz takes the opportunity to place his hand at the small of her back, prompting her to lean into him.
It's small, but I’ve never seen Clara rely on anyone for anything.
It’s strange, like an uncanny valley version of the vicious, hyper-independent badass I’ve always known.
“You know, you’ve really fucked this all up Emily,” she scolds, morphing from Matriarch to cousin Clara in a matter of seconds.
She turns to find a chair, and the rest of the Costas and their partners cautiously join her at the table.
Charlie gives me a look that clearly says get over here now, you idiot, so I grab Alice by the elbow and bring her with me.
I stick her between Gwen and I, since that seems like the safest open seat.
“I do know that,” I admit, injecting an unfamiliar but honest humility into my tone. “If it helps, I plan on abdicating my position within The Syndicate the moment Konstantin is dead.”
“What?”
It’s not Clara, or either of my other cousins, who voices the question. It’s Alice, whose bewildered face is turned up at me.
“You ran from this life. I won’t survive if you run from me. Leaving is the only choice.”
It was a very simple decision I made on the flight to Tokyo.
We both need time to heal from the lies and manipulation we subjected each other to.
And to be frank, I knew I had a lot of work to do in order to get Alice to forgive me—work I couldn’t do if I was chasing her around the world as she fled a life filled with blood and victims and countless other horrible things.
It might be easy to track her down, knowing what I do about her now, but it wouldn't allow us to fix things.
To get to know each other. To forgive and maybe begin anew.
“You know, you really haven’t learned anything, have you?” Alice says, the words and the sadness in her eyes cutting directly into my chest, leaving me exposed and raw.
“Alice, I was trying—”
“No, you’re choosing,” she says, cutting me off with my mouth still hanging open. “For me. You know the thing I want most in the world, and you’re denying me the chance to have it because you’re stubbornly trying to control the outcome of us.”
I can’t focus on how everyone else at the table reacts. All I can see is the hurt on Alice’s face, and the guilt that immediately swallows me whole.
She’s not wrong. I want so badly to mold every moment from here on out so I can guarantee she’ll be standing by my side at the end of all this.
Because I need her. The very essence of my body and soul is tied to Alice, and I’ve never feared anything more than the idea of losing her. To death, to hatred, to anything.
I hear her words from a few days ago, floating to the forefront of my mind like they were brought in with the tide. This isn’t about facing your fears. It’s about learning that fear isn’t necessary.
I have to believe she meant it. That there’s still a thread of something good and beautiful stitching us together.
“Okay, how about we discuss it once we kill your father?”
For a second, I think she’ll break with laughter. But she adopts her normal deadpan disdain for my overconfidence, huffing a breath through her nose.
“I’ll think about it,” she replies, and my lungs fill with breathable air again.
That’s not a no. It’s certainly not a jellyfish.
“You two are worse than us,” Gwen mutters, elbowing Charlie in the bicep. He winks at her before surveying the table.
“I think it’s a family trait, the toxic relationships,” he offers, eyeing Deniz who seems completely unperturbed. Actually, he seems to take it as a badge of honor.
“Are you calling your Matriarch's impending marriage toxic, Carlo?” Clara asks, using a hint of her matriarch voice as she chides her brother. He gives her an apologetic look, but doesn’t retract his statement.
“I think we deserve to hear the rest of the story,” Gwen says, scooting closer to Alice. She takes her in like a research subject, like an animal in a cage she’s supposed to observe for science. “I have a million questions.”
“I’m sure you do,” I mutter, earning a kick from Charlie. Alice’s cheeks flush a bit, unused to having this many people speak to her at the same time.
“I’m not sure where to start,” she admits, tucking her hair behind her ears.
“Well, I’ve got a question,” Bea starts, pushing off the wall and placing her palms on the table so she can lean toward Alice. The smallest smile pulls at the corner of her lips. “How in the world did you get rattlesnake venom with no access to the internet?”
And the grin that stretches across Alice’s face is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.